The Detective's Son
by TheOriginalSherlockian
Summary: Set fifteen years after Sherlock season 3, John's daughter meets Sherlock's son at a reunion party
1. Chapter 1

I stepped out of the glossy black taxi peering around the loud bustling streets of London as my navy converse hit the pavement. Dad exited the car just after me

"Come on Mary darling, we'll be late" he said helping her out.

"It's not for another forty-five minutes, John" she said in a futile attempt to placate him for he had been on edge the whole morning , no doubt excited to catch up with the famous Sherlock Holmes I had heard so much about.

Dad was always talking about him, whenever anything I did would trigger a memory of some sort it was always

"That reminds me of the time when Sherlock and I…" or "God, Amelia, you're worse than Sherlock" he would chastise me.

I had discovered his old blog too, some of the stuff sounds much too exciting and adventurous for my father but then again that was at least fifteen years ago, seeing as I am fourteen now, technically fifteen.

Suddenly Big Ben chimed twelve ceasing my mother and father's petty squabble over parking spaces or something equally dull.

"Okay that's it, I'm going in" declared Dad who could contain his child-like excitement no longer. Very out of character for him I thought. My mother and I exchanged an exasperated glance and followed him into the luxurious hotel reception. It was a reunion of sorts, I was told. What for, I could only imagine.

We were lead inside by an awfully cheerful-looking porter to one of the large rooms intended for business meetings or formal wedding parties. There were a lot of men in suits and women in bright jewel-coloured dresses gathered in a circle around a tall man in what appeared to be a black trench-coat and navy scarf.

He seemed to be in the middle of telling a story, his pale, sculpted face holding an animated expression, using hand signals to describe something very large. The others hung on to his every word. He turned and froze his voice faltering and whatever tale he was recounting forgotten as he saw my father and sprinted towards us almost knocking over Dad in a forcible embrace.

"John" he breathed, his face alight with excitement as he patted dad on the back. "I haven't seen you since I left London because of that miserable old git Magnuson—"

"Language Sherlock" the lady beside him gently reminded, I assumed she was his wife. "John, Mary" she said acknowledging my parents with brief kisses on the cheeks.

"Ah Molly" Mum smiled at the woman and they launched into conversation while Sherlock lead Dad down to a table beckoning me to join them.

"So" began Dad "I see you survived that mission Mycroft sent you off on then?"

"Just barley" replied Sherlock with a laugh, shaking his dark curls. "I see you have a daughter" he continued "Hello Amelia" he smiled down at me "Happy Birthday he added. How did he know it was my birthday? Or even my name? Dad couldn't have told him, Sherlock was out on a government mission, they had no contact. I gave my father a quizzical look to which he replied with a smirk and a shrug. "Oh uh thanks" I said quickly "But how did you know?" Dad sighed in a here-we-go manner as Sherlock replied "I didn't know, I saw" and he spent a half an hour telling me that he could tell my birthday, music taste and favourite books by my nail polish and my grades at school by my phone case. Wow, I thought maybe he really was as brilliant as Dad always made him out to be.

"You know what Mother thinks about showing off" interrupted a boys voice I turned around to see a tall boy with dark hair and gleaming blue eyes approached me wearing a similar trench-coat to his father only more stylish and edgy "Hello" he said formally though his eyes glinted with mischief "You must be John and Mary's daughter, I've heard a lot about your father, I'm Everett Holmes" He said with a firm handshake "Pleasure to meet you Amelia Grace Watson." He said, his soft clear voice caressing my name like a prayer. He looked about my age maybe a year older at most. Butterflies erupted in my stomach at the simple touch of his pale pianists hand around mine leaving me somewhat incapable of speech. I could do nothing but stare into his dizzying blue gaze causing him so raise an eyebrow.

I shook myself and smiled back. "And I assume you too can deduce my life story simply by looking at me?" I enquire. Both Sherlock and Everett grinned at this, I felt like I was missing out on some sort of private joke "I was simply observing, Miss Watson" he said, his tone rich with amusement. "What happened?" Sherlock asked suddenly as Everett sat down, almost like he read the boys mind. "What do you mean 'What happened?'" enquired Dad. "Well Everett is sitting with me" explained Sherlock "You never sit with me unless…" a realisation seemed to dawn on Sherlock "Anderson" both he and his son said at the same time. "I couldn't survive another minute in the foyer with him, just prattling on and on." Everett complained with a roll of his ice-blue eyes, running a hand through his dark disheveled curly hair, which he obviously got from his father.

He went on to tell both my father and Sherlock about Lewis Anderson, son of one of his father's colleagues. Sherlock nodded understandingly while my Dad constantly looking between Sherlock and his son was just shocked at just how similar Everett was to his father. Just then the door opened and the whole room went quiet as a shadow filled the doorway.


	2. Chapter 2

A man in a dark suit and a briefcase walked in with a sour expression on his face. Sherlock seemed to know who it was without even needing to look up

"Mycroft" he sighed his eyes narrowed the contempt evident in his tone.

The man sauntered over to our table swinging his brass topped cane and sat down beside Dad directly opposite Sherlock.

"Hello brother mine" he said with a sickening grin "I see you're finally reunited with your dear John Watson"

"What do you want Mycroft?" Sherlock demanded impatiently.

Mycroft feigned a wounded expression "I simply wanted to, what is it you do nowadays 'converse' see how all your old friends are doing" he purred. He seemed to emphasise the word 'friends' as if he were mocking Sherlock somehow. Mycroft turned to me "Mycroft Holmes" he introduced himself with a stiff nod "I'm Sherlock's big brother" he said causing Sherlock to scowl and add "Unfortunately so".

"Amelia Watson" I reply "But I suppose you know that already" I say.

"So Cousin Atticus is here too?" interrupted Everett in a dismal voice.

"Indeed" Mycroft answered with what was soon becoming his trademark serpent-like smile that made me shiver "He is _anxious_ to see you, he should be upstairs, run along" he said with a wave of his hand. Everett stood and turned to me extending an arm

"Amelia?" He asked my head shot up at the sound of my name.

He wanted me to come with him, well, I supposed it was better than awkwardly sitting with my father and his friend, and god forbid Mycroft. I took his arm and together we ascended the wide staircase leading up to a smaller room filled with cushioned sofas. Sitting on one was a blonde boy the same age as Everett and I. I felt his forest green gaze graze over me

"Everett, Amelia" he said coldly looking down at his phone again.

What was it about Holmes boys? I asked myself, how did they do that, deduction thingy Sherlock had attempted to explain.

"Atticus" Everett replied in an equally cool tone laced with venom. Atticus? I wondered as in the Cousin Atticus Everett had asked about, I looked down at the sunny blonde seated on the couch tapping away on his iPhone, he couldn't be Mycroft's son could he? He did not resemble his father in the least, well physically that was but I had a feeling his personality was equally as bitter.

"So Atticus, what are you doing holed up in this little room?" teased Everett "I thought you'd be downstairs, enjoying the festivities, making new friends?"

"You know I don't _do_ friends, Everett" he sighed acting as if it were painfully obvious, never ceasing his furious typing on his phone "And, this is the only room with Wi-Fi" he replied seriously.

Everett whipped out his phone and sat down next to Atticus centring his fascination and focus on the lighted screen casting a blue glow over his fair, chiselled features. They were extremely anti-social I thought, and what was that Atticus had said _'I don't do friends'_ odd, I muse. If you can't beat them, join them I thought so I pulled out my phone, it looked like I was going to be in for one awkward afternoon. I began to tweet

"Stuck with the Holmes boys" when suddenly Atticus flung his phone across the room narrowly avoiding shattering a vase perched on the window sill.

"Goddammit!" exclaimed Everett punching the sofa beside him.

"And we were so close too" added Atticus.

"Wait what?" I ask .They had just been tapping away on their phones in silence for a good half-hour now and now this random outburst.

"Hacking into the governments files" shrugged Everett casually; he may as well have been talking about the weather.

"We were almost in" said Atticus bitterly. I looked at them both

"Why on Earth are you looking through Government files?" I asked exasperatedly.

They exchanged wary glances. "_Moriarty_" said Everett his blue eyes deathly serious.

"But I've read the blog, he was arrested years ago, our fathers solved that very case" I answer confused.

"No, you imbecile, his daughter" Atticus corrected me "_Clara Moriarty"_ he spoke the name like a curse.

"_What _did you just call Amelia?" demanded Everett his tone deadly. Wow, for someone I'd just met he sure was protective. Atticus laughed "Heaven's sake Everett, calm down" he said raising an eyebrow. "So, what's all this about Clara Moriarty?" I ask curious to know more. "Well" began Atticus "As you know both our fathers now work for the government, meaning Mi5, and Everett and I were…..eavesdropping —" "We stole their spy equipment" interrupted Everett. Atticus gave him an angry look and proceeded "We were eavesdropping and overheard them talking about her, so since both Everett and I were agonisingly bored we have been trying to track down her files since, but to no avail" He finished disappointed. "I've got it!" yelled Everett.


	3. Chapter 3

Atticus snatched the phone from Everett's hands and peered at the screen. After a while of scrolling through the information Atticus put down the phone and sighed

"I don't understand"

"What?" replied Everett anxious

"There's nothing here" exclaimed Atticus frantically.

"There's at least four pages of information there" Everett pointed out "I'd hardly call that nothing".

"No, Everett" hissed Atticus with a roll of his bottle green eyes "There's nothing criminal here, her record is pristine"

"Then why were your fathers talking about her?" I asked, extremely confused now.

"Well that's what we were hoping to find out" answered Everett exasperated. Then he looked at me with a glimmer of mischief in those shimmering blue eyes. "You could eavesdrop on their conversation" he suggested "Atticus and I do it frequently, so they speak in code when we are around but they won't suspect you"

"Indeed" added Atticus "I wouldn't doubt that Uncle Sherlock will tell John".

"You'll go right?" Everett asked with a hopeful expression.

"Oh, uh sure" I stutter awkwardly under the full force of his gaze, how could I have even said no to this boy?

I walked downstairs and sat at the table beside Dad and put on headphones though they were not connected to anything so I could clearly hear their conversation. Sherlock seemed to be talking to my Dad.

"And so I asked Gavin"

"_Greg_"

"I asked Greg, when was Moriarty's execution and he said that it was scheduled for last month but that the prison was bombed and his body was never located"

"So someone got him out? One of the people working for him? An old friend?"

"No, Donovan assured me that they had arrested every one of his contacts, and he had no friends"

"Like you" interrupted Mycroft, his voice dripping with sarcasm.

"Shut _up_ Mycroft" said both Dad and Sherlock in unison.

"Well it wasn't a coincidence" continued Dad.

"No John, it was his daughter, it had to have been"

"What Clara? I thought she never knew, Molly never told her"

"Well she must have found out who her father is and she has somehow managed to blow up a prison"

"That's quite a lot for a seventeen year old to accomplish"

"First of all she is _Moriarty's_ daughter and second I doubt she did it all on her own"

"Well, you know what she's going to want next, her father too"

Sherlock was silent.

"Revenge, Sherlock, we sent her father to death row the Moriarty's are going to go after us, both of us. And it's not just ourselves we've to worry about either, Amelia, Mary, Molly, Everett they're all in danger now."

Dad gave me a concerned look, thinking I was oblivious to it all. I pressed end on the microphone on my phone, I had recorded the whole thing. Shakily I rose from my chair and went back upstairs to Everett and Atticus.

The two boys seemed to be in the middle of a deduction concerning my scarf I had left behind, and they were trying to figure out where I had gotten it.

"It's from Shanghai, I keep telling you" insisted Atticus "Look at that dye"

"No, it's definitely Scottish" replied Everett "Isle of Skye to be exact, you can't get that wool anywhere else".

I opened the door and they both stopped and turned to where I was standing. Without a word I tossed Everett the phone and he listened to the entire conversation.

"This is serious" began Atticus after the recording had been played for the second time. "He's out there, we can't tackle this on our own" he concluded.

"So you're suggesting—"

"We get Sherlock involved" I finish for him.


End file.
